


Ruby Hale's Playlist for Dismantling the Patriarchy and Killing Your Mother (Not Necessarily in That Order)

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ruby head canons, Vignettes, feels and thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: The General just tucks her hair behind her hair, something resembling a fond sort of smile on her face. 'You’ll see', she says, 'people are weak.'And that is something Ruby learns too, not just from her mother but from everyone. From the soldiers who work beneath her mother, the few who aren’t machines, the ones that seem all too willing to believe that the General’s daughter is as sweet as she is pretty. She learns to smile without baring her teeth, learns not to bristle when a hand rests against her shoulder or on her thigh.-or-Snippets of Ruby.





	1. White Flag

**Author's Note:**

> My intention is for this to just be a sort of collection of thoughts and head canons about Ruby based on what we see in the episodes and also pure speculation on my part because I love Ruby and think of her often. 
> 
> Also I find it interesting that Ruby is often listening to the music when we see her, hence the title and structure(?) for this vignette collection. Each ficlet is kinda inspired by a song that reminds me of Ruby or seems like something that she might have on a playlist. 
> 
> Anyways I need more Ruby so I hope AoS delivers her to me.

["White Flag" by Bishop Briggs ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWzZeA2GMsk)

 

The first thing she learns from her mother is how to disappoint her.

There’s always a way, it seems, to do better. To _be_ better. Faster. Stronger. Smarter.

_Again_ , her mother always says, and Ruby can hear the word in her dreams, an endless refrain just like it is during her waking moments. _Again_.  

And so: again. She hits harder. She runs faster. She strikes quicker, without hesitation, without delay.

_Never be indecisive_ , her mother tells her and it’s the second thing, Ruby thinks, that she learns from the woman. _There’s nothing worse than that. That second of hesitation might mean the end of your life_.

Ruby is pretty sure that what she means is the end of what they’ve been working for. A goal, a vision for a better future, one that her mother has been telling her like bedtime stories for years.

The third thing she learns from her mother: that there’s a utopian future on the horizon and that Ruby is one of the keys to making it happen.

Which, of course, only equals more disappointment. Ruby can see it easily enough in her mother’s features, the way that her eyes narrow slightly, her mouth pinching into a thin line. When they’re alone, when it’s only her mother standing in the training room or the classroom, the General doesn’t hold back with her criticism, leaving bruises behind when she positions Ruby the way that she wants her. But when there are others around, her mother’s superiors, those overseeing this grand utopian future, there’s only the narrowed eyes, the pursed lips, the subtle tightening of her mother’s fists.

All the ways that she shows what a disappointment Ruby is.

And when they go: _again_. _Again. Again_. Until Ruby’s muscles burn and her bones ache and her stomach turns at the thought of food, and all she can do is crawl into bed and slip in her ear buds with trembling fingers.

When she gets older, she learns something else from her mother. She learns that there are more things that are expected of her, new ways to turn her body into a weapon.

_You’re a pretty girl, Ruby_ , her mother says, a bit contemptuously, the way that people who have never been pretty might dole out the compliment. _You can use that your advantage_.

She’s thirteen the first time she hears this, or so she imagines, because age isn’t easy to nail down here, not when there aren’t birthdays or other important dates to help mark the passage of time. She judges her age as best she can but thinks it doesn’t really matter one way or the other.

But her mother tells her that she’s pretty and Ruby knows better than to think this is actually a compliment.

Instead, the General just tucks her hair behind her hair, something resembling a fond sort of smile on her face. _You’ll see_ , she says, _people are weak_.

And that is something Ruby learns too, not just from her mother but from everyone. From the teachers who let her skip out on her lessons early when she smiles at them, an expression that she practices in the mirror so that it doesn’t sit stiff on her face.

From the soldiers who work beneath her mother, the few who aren’t machines, the ones that seem all too willing to believe that the General’s daughter is as sweet as she is pretty. She learns to smile without baring her teeth, learns not to bristle when a hand rests against her shoulder or on her thigh.

She learns about weakness from the people outside the safe house, the ones who don’t realize that they’re nothing but practice for the weapon that looks like a girl. From the man who gives up government secrets to the blonde in the red dress. From the colonel who is so busy staring at her that he doesn’t see her at all.

From Werner, who is just as weak as the rest of them.

He imagines himself different, Ruby can tell that easily enough. Somehow special, above everyone else. But he’s not immune to her -this is something else she learns from her mother.

_Do whatever you have to do_ , the General says and Ruby nods because she knows that’s what she’s supposed to do and it’ll be easy, she thinks.

She’s already allowed him to touch her, to imagine himself in control. She’s already let him feel powerful. Those are the first steps, the easy part. Everything else, Ruby thinks, will just fall into place.

_Don’t you go off the rails_ , her mother adds and Ruby can see it there in her features, the disappointment.

The first expression of her mother’s that she ever learned how to read. But there’s something more there, Ruby notes, a sort of amusement, a subtle glee. The pleasure of a daughter doing something wrong. Nothing pleases her mother more, she thinks, than being able to point out all the things that Ruby does wrong.

It just might be her favorite past time, or, at least, her favorite bloodless hobby.

So Ruby lets her hand rest on Werner’s leg and knows that she has him ensnared, that he is her rabbit.

_She makes me do things I don’t want to do_ she tells him and imagines that Werner thinks about the violence, the training, the hissed push of _again_ endlessly in her mind. She is sure he doesn’t imagine that it has anything to do with him.

How easily she plays him.

The fourth thing she learned from her mother was how to play chess. First, she learned how to lose. How to make every mistake, how to sacrifice her pieces without even realizing that’s what she was doing. And then she learned how to win, how to calculate her own moves and her mother’s; she learned to read the General’s thoughts as she laid out her strategy.

It had felt good to start to steal those pieces, to win the game, to see something akin to pleasure in her mother’s face with every game lost. _Again_ , she would say and Ruby would beat her, always. Because chess, anyone will say, is not about how you play the game. It’s about how your opponent does.

Werner is just one of the pieces that her mother has in play, one that Ruby intends to steal, to remove from the board. She thinks about this as she makes herself touch his face, when she softens her face and beckons him with her eyes.

And he stays, of course, there had never been a doubt in her mind.

And her mother, for once, looks pleased.

Ruby is a little disappointed in her, though she bites down the impulse to tell her this. She thinks that Ruby is playing her game.

Unfortunately for the General, even after all this time she still hasn’t learned anything from her daughter.


	2. Monster

[Monster -Kayne West](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmEk0ZMhva4)

 

Ruby likes that her teachers are afraid of her. It’s a side effect of being the General’s daughter, of having a mother who never believed in kissing booboos or wiping away tears. Her mother never really believed in tears at all, scowling anytime Ruby’s chin would tremble and her eyes would water, her palms or knees stinging, her body smarting from some newly acquired injury.

She also likes that the other kids in her classes are afraid of her too. She likes the way they always watch her out of the corner of their eyes, tracking her movements. It’s good for them, she thinks -keeps them on their game, gives her a little bit of hope for them.

Ruby thinks, for the most part, that her classmates aren’t long for this world. They’re the children of rich and important people, people with more clout than sense or skill, and that makes them soft. Weak. It’s not their fault, of course, it’s just a side effect of being, well, the child of someone who imagines the world will always bend to their well.

Ruby knows no other home than the safe house, knows no other type of school than the classes her mother forces her to attend and the ones that teach her to strike harder, to be faster, to not hesitate. She knows that she only rubs elbows with these rich and important spawn because of her mother and her importance to the cause, to this new future that they’re all supposedly working toward.

She knows that while her classmates are checking their social media and associating with the general population, that she is the one sweating and bleeding to make the future better for the rest of them. Their own physical fitness classes are a joke compared to the ones that Ruby is forced into, the ones that she’s tempted, all too often, to skip out on, if she wasn’t so afraid of the repercussions.

Sometimes her mother can be a formidable opponent.

So Ruby attends the classes she’s supposed to in the mornings, the ones that teach her about the world as a whole, about history, and math, and novels that Ruby reads only because inside her room there’s nothing else to do. Sometimes she even enjoys them, though the characters themselves usually make stupid decisions that would probably result in their deaths in a different universe.

And in the afternoon, it’s classes with instructors who push her too hard and then harder.

They aren’t so afraid of her, which is a bit of a disappointment, especially considering the fact that they know exactly what she’s capable of. Ruby tries not to take it personally.

That’s what the morning classes are for, after all. Inspiring a bit of fear and intimidation. It makes the day go by just a little bit faster, anyway.

Ruby sits in her seat silently like a good little girl, the perfect student. She doesn’t necessarily listen to what the teacher is saying but she makes a good show of it: quiet, pen in hand, even when her focus is on the other ten students in the room with her. The ones who goof off and snicker behind the teacher’s back, the ones who think they’re funny and slick, the ones who think running from one side of the basketball court in the gym and back is suitable exercise. The ones who look at her with just a touch of fear in their eyes.

Ruby watches them, cataloging their strengths and weaknesses the way she would do with any opponent. Sloane, the dark-headed daughter of an ambassador who seems to truly listen to the teacher’s lectures and always raises her hand to answer or ask questions -two things that hold no appeal for Ruby. And Rishi, the child of one of her mother’s underlings. He’s her favorite sparring partner for their physical education classes because he’s not too afraid to try and get close enough to land a punch.

While the teacher talks about William Golding, Ruby lets her eyes shift toward Smith, always seated in the front left corner of the classroom. Perfectly in her eyesight, which she sometimes imagines is purposeful. Smith, the only one of her classmates that Ruby often thinks about stabbing with the pen in her hand.

She thinks the feeling is mutual.

Not that Smith could actually do anything.

It makes the corner of her lips quirk up to even entertain the thought.

As though sensing the thoughts running through her mind, Smith glances over his shoulder and meets her eyes. He smiles, which makes Ruby frown. She’s often found that people smile when they want something or have something on their mind and knowing Smith it’s undoubtedly not something very pleasant.

He winks at her and Ruby’s expression remains unchanged, regarding him coolly and with passing interest. She knows all the things her mother has taught her to do when it comes to dealing with members of the opposite sex: how to smile, how to bat her eyelashes, how to accentuate her lips, her hips, the other curves of her body. But there’s nothing that she needs from Smith, nothing worthwhile he can offer her.

So she does nothing.

Smith’s expression shifts just as quickly, growing cloudy, annoyed, maybe even a bit confused. Ruby has watched him with the rest of the class, the easy way that he charms the girls, the way he makes friends with all the boys. Skills that he, no doubt, learned from his boot-licking father. This exchange isn’t particularly new to them; Ruby has no interest in Smith’s charm or his friendship, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from baiting her. He smiles at her in class, tugs on her hair whenever he can get close enough, whispers caustic names at her when she passes by.

Ruby understands him well enough to know that it’s a reaction that he’s after, in the same way that some boys are fascinated with the idea of knocking a hornet’s nest from a tree branch.

She likes to see his eyes darken, his mouth tighten. She likes to hear him start to buzz when she ignores him.

After their academically based classes is physical education and then…Ruby isn’t entirely sure. What she imagines is freedom for the rest of her classmates and, for her, more training. But, for the next hour, she gets to pretend. She gets to pretend to be just like them, to be normal, to be the special daughter of a special person who goes to a special school because she’s too special to be among the boring inhabitants of the world.

Ruby knows that she’s special, though not for the reasons that she would like to be.

She knows that she’s special because of the fear that she can see in her classmates’ eyes as they all watch her, cataloging her movements, ensuring that they know where she is at all times. She knows that she’s special because when their instructor announces that they’ll be working with partners on their sparring skills, all her classmates shift away from her with the type of furtive glances that suggest they hope she doesn’t notice.

But she does, because she notices everything.

Ruby ignores the group as they split off into pairs, wrapping up her hands as she listens to the chatter behind her. Most of them go through the motions, she knows, imagining themselves one day as ambassadors or diplomats or the spouses of people far more glamorous. They, unlike Ruby, never take the things they learn during this part of the day seriously.

When Ruby turns back to face her partner, she imagines that Rishi will be there across from her, reluctant but willing, the way he always is when it comes to their inevitable partnership on the mat. Instead, Smith is standing there, grinning at her like the cat who got the canary. “You’re my partner.”

Ruby thinks, briefly, about protesting, about assuring him that that is pretty much the opposite of what she wants. But that will be attention, focus, concern…all the things Ruby is uninterested in giving him.

So she only shrugs, rolling her shoulders, allowing her muscles to go loose and mailable. These little sessions are good for warming up with and nothing more.

Smith, predictably, strikes first, no doubt imagining that he’s catching her off guard. Ruby steps back, out of his reach, moving away just enough to throw him off balance as he reaches for her. His body is heavier, bigger, than hers, and he pitches forward, catching himself on his foot before he can tumble completely.

Ruby shifts behind him and Smith makes a grab for her, catching her by the strap of her tank top and she’s almost impressed by his lack of interest in any sort of rules. Not that she often trains to fight by the rules either.

Smith pulls her forward, a sudden yank that nearly catches Ruby off balance and gives him enough of the upper hand to pull her to his chest, her back pressed against him. Ruby wills her body not to react, not to shudder, as he holds her flush to him, his arm tight around her neck and shoulders.

“Giving up so easily, freak?” Smith hisses against the side of her face, his breath hot against her skin. “What would your mommy say?”

Ruby shifts her position, feeling the movement of his body against hers, the way that he reacts to her.

Smith holds her closer and Ruby can feel him against her, tight and pressing. “You probably like this, huh?” He asks her, his voice low against her ear. “You want someone to touch you like this?”

Ruby moves suddenly, effortlessly, with a smoothness that she knows takes Smith off balance. She takes the arm he’s held around her with her as she moves, jerking it behind his back, putting her weight into it, and is rewarded by the solid crack that she’s certain echoes throughout the room. Smith cries out, a sound more of surprise than pain, because, Ruby knows, the pain will come later. She drives her knee into the small of his back, dropping him to his knees, and only then does she let his arm go.

“You bitch,” Smith pants out, his voice weak and watery, as he struggles not to fall onto his bad arm, the one hanging useless there at his side. “You fucking bitch.”

The instructor is there, and the other kids, and Ruby likes the way they look at her, that reminder of why they’ve been afraid of her before.

She smirks. “Oops,” she says as she looks at Smith there on his knees on the mat. “Sorry.”

After that, training by herself is boring.

Ruby moves through the routines as always, pushes herself, strains her muscles, and remembers with satisfaction of the crack of Smith’s arm.

It isn’t until she’s nearly done that Ruby realizes that her mother is standing there, watching.

She has no idea how long the general has been there and the expression on her face gives away no indication of how she feels about what she sees. Ruby exhales slowly, puffing out her cheeks, grabbing a bottle of water as she walks in the direction of her mother.

“I heard you broke another student’s arm today during your classes,” her mother says, lifting an eyebrow.

Ruby shrugs, unscrewing the top off the bottle. “He deserved it.”

“Impressive,” her mother says and Ruby feels a faint flicker of something, a warmth in her chest. “But you let your emotions get the better of you. You were impulsive and you let your personal feelings get in the way.” General Hale sighs, shaking her head. “Do better next time.”

Ruby can feel the water trickling down onto her fingers as her grip tightens on the bottle.

“Next time I’ll break both his arms,” Ruby mutters as her mother walks away.

The General chuckles and it’s not an entirely unpleasant sound.


	3. The Mother We Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her mother is gone. Missing. Currently untraceable. And her mother’s subordinates thought that they should tell her. Like she might be the type of daughter who would worry about something like this.

[The Mother We Share -Chvrches ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mW1g1MlLDsE)

 

She first learns that her mother is missing from one of the General’s underlings and Ruby processes this information slowly, with one earbud still tucked into her ear, the other dangling down toward her hip. For a moment, the only thing Ruby feels is a stab of mild annoyance that her podcast has been interrupted.

“We lost contact with her about an hour ago,” the man continues, one of the few human people that her mother keeps around. She doesn’t trust them for the most part, declaring that humans are messy and far from dependable and Ruby knows that the General makes a habit of going through soldiers -both human and android- pretty quickly. “We think SHIELD might be involved.”

This doesn’t surprise Ruby in the slightest, considering that SHIELD is the wasp’s nest that her mother can’t seem to avoid poking with a stick.

Ruby’s next thought is of Quake and she pushes it away, mildly embarrassed.

Though it’s not as easy to ignore the flare of jealousy at the thought of her mother, right now, being in Quake’s presence.

Ruby tightens her jaw. “And?”

“We just…wanted you to know,” the man adds hastily and Ruby tilts her head and wonders how afraid he is of her. “We’ll continue trying to trace her location. And we’ll keep you up-to-date.”

Ruby puts her earbud back into place, a dismissal that the man recognizes without issue. The door clangs shut behind him and she’s left in the silence of her room, the drone of faraway voices from faraway strangers in her ear.

Her mother is gone. Missing. Currently untraceable. And her mother’s subordinates thought that they should tell her. Like she might be the type of daughter who would worry about something like this.

She wonders if they expect her to jump into action, to don her suit and mask and pick up her weapon and work tirelessly until she finds the General and returns with her safely.

Ruby smirks at the idea. She wonders what her mother would expect her to do. If it would somehow warm her heart to know that Ruby was worried about her, that she was pacing the room, eager to jump into action. To save her.

Ruby rolls over onto her stomach, pillowing her head on the crook of her elbow. And she thinks about the fact that her mother is missing.

She’s been in this room for nearly as long as she can remember, though there are a few snippets of an earlier life that dance around in her mind. Memories of being asleep in the backseat of a car and then waking up suddenly, watching the glow of headlights dancing across the roof of the car as they sped through the darkness. She remembers crying until her mother pulled the car over and wiped at her tears and promised her that things were going to be fun and new and different and that she was going to like the place they were going next.

It’s the only time Ruby can remember her mother speaking to her gently, wiping away her tears with the cuffs of her navy jacket.

She remembers going to visit the Struckers, the teenage boy that she knows now must have been Werner, who had been tasked with watching her even though it was clear he wanted to do anything else. She remembers his backyard and a finished basement with a large television and every game imaginable and a couch that felt like it would devour her and not spit her back out again.

She remembers-

_A small kitchen with polished wood floors and pans and pots that could be used to make music and the bare feet of a woman that smelled like honeysuckle and the clean white baseboards and something warm in the oven and_

-black and white checkers.

But those were visits, brief, almost like field trips. Like her mother had business to attend to and had to bring Ruby along for lack of a suitable babysitter. Or maybe she was supposed to be a symbol of some sort, mother’s perfect little girl, a sign of the future they were fighting for.

What Ruby remembers most is this room, how her world is made up of these four walls and those of the classes that she attends on daily. How her mother was never around when it was time for bed, or if Ruby slept restlessly and anxiously, plagued by nightmares and the pressures of helping usher in this new world that her mother dreamed of.

Knowing that her mother is missing now honestly doesn’t feel much different from every other day of her life, though Ruby knows that the door is likely to remain closed for much longer. That her mother won’t be walking in to admonish her latest efforts.

Ruby feels a twinge in the base of her rib cage, a strange sort of freedom that grows from that thought. Her mother, gone.

She used to worry about this, too, as a little girl. Staring at her ceiling in the dark, worrying that her mother might forget that she was down here and leave her behind. That she would languish away here, forgotten and alone.

But now Ruby knows that wouldn’t happen. Without her mother, she could slip away, she could be free.

These are the thoughts of a daughter whose mother is missing.

Ruby wonders what her mother’s underlings would say if they knew.  

Listless, Ruby pulls free her earbuds, leaving the podcast playing to no one as she tosses her phone aside and gets off her bed. Hidden away is the mask that hides her face when she leaves, the outfit she wears to intimidate others and protect herself. She could pull it on, pick up her chakram and find her mother. Why leave the task to a bunch of robots and some simpering underlings? Why not handle it herself?

Bring her mother home.

Make her proud.

Ruby turns the idea over in her mind, trying to decide if it’s as pleasant as the idea of being her mother’s only hope and ignoring her. Of proving, once again, to be a disappointment.

She remembers weekend mornings, the days broken up on because those were the two mornings that she didn’t have to attend her classes. She remembers her mother coming into the room, smiling, balancing two plates loaded with breakfast. And not just the oatmeal and fruit and cereal that Ruby usually found in the cafeteria but the real stuff, eggs and bacon and flaky biscuits and gravy to dip it all in. And all of it still warm.

And they would sit on Ruby’s bed together and eat and it was a small bit of time carved out for the two of them, where Ruby imagined them to be as normal as the families that she saw on the shows that kept her company in between her work and classes.

But then she got older and…it was harder to pretend.

Or maybe it was her mother who got harder.

Or maybe, Ruby thinks, _she_ was the one who grew to be that way.

But still, Ruby can almost taste it: the fluffiness of eggs on her tongue, the laughter in the back of her throat. The way her mother would talk to her like she almost was proud of her.

She wants to make her proud.

She wants…she wants…

Not those moments back, not necessarily. But the woman who smiled at her and touched her knee with a light affection.

And there’s something else there, suddenly, beneath her ribs. Another twinge, different from the one that promised the freedom that would come in her mother’s absence. Something deeper, sharper, something that makes its way up and into Ruby’s chest, tightening a hold on her heart.

Something that makes her worry for her mother, out there alone and missing.

Something that suddenly makes her want out of this place so that she can go to her.

Fear, Ruby realizes. Fear that her mother might never return after all.

She goes to the door, knocks impatiently, waits to be turned loose.

“Tell me what happened exactly,” Ruby demands when she’s face-to-face with a person who might be able to answer this question. “Tell me what happened to my mother.”

Ruby knows that she can find her, bring her home. That she can make her mother proud and erase the pressing bite of worry that seems to make it hard to breathe.

Worry for her mother.

Who would have guessed?

 

* * *

 

All too soon, though, her mother is back, and Ruby learns the truth. She was never missing at all.

The General, as always, had been in control.

“You should have told me,” Ruby snaps when she’s standing in front of her mother once more, a scowl on her face. “You didn’t tell me about this plan.”

The General looks almost amused by this. “Why would I need to tell you about my plans?”

Ruby tightens her jaw, swallows. The worry that had been growing in her chest now feels like hot, sticky embarrassment.

“Forget it,” Ruby says before she has the chance to say something else, something stupid.

Her mother is back. And she was never in danger. And she has the former Director of SHIELD with her.

And Ruby was never worried for a second.

Because that would be ridiculous. And weak.

And Ruby is neither of those things.


	4. Gods and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ll fix the machine, she’s certain of it.
> 
> There’s no motivator quite like the promise of death and dismemberment. 
> 
> Ruby knows this from experience.

["Gods and Monsters" -Lana del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_zmrdilJFU)

 

Ruby considers, for a moment, the hand that she’s been dealt recently. Standing in the middle of a warehouse littered with broken pieces of the machine designed to make her what she’s always been meant to be seems like as good a place as any for some introspection.

First thing to consider is, of course, the unfortunate smattering of broken machinery spread across the floor. That was definitely not supposed to happen. She feels a twinge of annoyance, her fingers flexing on instinct toward the weapon at her side. When it doubt, shed a little blood. It works as both a motivator and a stress reliver and she has more stress than she’d like niggling at the back of her mind.

It wasn’t supposed to be like _this_. SHIELD wasn’t supposed to get here first, wasn’t supposed to beat _her_.

Well, Ruby thinks, they can certainly try, anyway.

She likes that line. She’ll have to thank Quake later, when they have their little rematch.

She wasn’t supposed to be here with Werner and no one else. Ruby has never considered herself the sentimental type, at least, not of late. But she’d always imagined…well, she’d always thought that her mother would be the one to deliver her to this inevitable moment. To her destiny.

But her mother is gone, locked away and undoubtedly forgotten and Ruby tries not to think too much about her absence. She’s simply outgrown the woman. It was bound to happen -she’s always been meant for more, anyway.

And her mother, well, her mother has always just been a vessel. Nothing more.

But she’s made it here anyway, she’s taken _herself_ here and Ruby figures that has to count for something. She’s never thought about shying away from her destiny.

And she definitely isn’t going to let SHIELD steal it from her.

Ruby turns her head, lazily letting her eyes play across the other two beings in the room. SHIELD’s best? No wonder they keep getting wiped off the map -it’s no surprise if this is what they have to offer.

They’ll fix the machine, she’s certain of it.

There’s no motivator quite like the promise of death and dismemberment.

Ruby knows this from experience.

Ruby tilts her head, watching the man work. His name is Fitz, she’s gotten that much at least. A stupid name, and she almost feels bad thinking about it engraved on a marker somewhere in the middle of nowhere Scotland but these things just can’t be helped. He’ll fix the machine, she’s seen the determination in his eyes. He’ll do it for the woman that Ruby has tied to a chair, the one who watches him with one eye and Ruby with the other.

Ruby likes her a little more. There’s something shrewd in her expression, a calculating sort of cunning like gives her a little bit more fire. Like if she were able to free herself she’d go for Ruby rather than run out the door. It’s almost tempting to untie her and see what might happen.

Except, Ruby knows, the woman imagines herself the mongoose and Ruby the snake. She’s too far in the nest to realize it’s the other way around.

Ruby turns away, bored of the snail’s progress going on with the machine. Who knew becoming the Destroyer would be so…boring?

Her boots click on the floor, echoing throughout the room as she paces the length, slow and even, flexing her fingers to keep them from becoming stiff. Her body is sore and weary thanks to her fight with Creel and then the one that followed immediately after. When her mother had locked her away, there had been little for Ruby to do aside from sit and wait. It had made her stiff, sore, and tired -a waste. She needs to loosen her muscles, ease the ache in her spine, the pounding in her head.

She reaches for her chakram, spinning around and throwing it in one fluid motion. Her aim is true. It always is.

The blade buries itself to the right of the woman’s face, leaving nothing but a whistle behind as it hits the wood.

The woman gasps and Ruby smiles. She’s feeling better already.

She walks over, pretending not to notice the way the woman tenses, watching her closely, trying to pull surreptitiously at her bindings. Ruby pulls the chakram free, savoring the weight of it in her hand, the familiarity.

Ruby retraces her steps, wondering if it would be overkill if she were to start whistling. She tries to curb the impulse, trying to remember what her mother and instructors have taught her about showboating.

They never had any sense of flare.

Ruby lets the chakram fly again, the blade feeling like an extension of her body, a part of herself.

Again, she’s rewarded with a gasp and it makes Ruby cluck her tongue. “You have no faith in me,” she chides, “if I wanted to hit you, I would.”

The woman lifts her chin, narrowing her eyes. “That does not make me feel better.”

Ruby shrugs, tugging the blade free. “Suit yourself.”

The next time she throws the chakram, she finally gets a reaction from Fitz. “Let her go.”

Ruby can’t help the grin that crosses her face at his words. She’s almost impressed by the audacity that he has, telling _her_ to do anything.

It makes her want to throw the chakram again and see where it lands.

Even still, Ruby makes herself listen to his arguments, weighs the benefits to keeping the woman tied up with cutting her loose. She could, at the very least, see what happens when she sets her free.

Ruby is almost disappointed when the hostage runs straight to Fitz. Boring. She’d hoped for more out of her.

But they’re…interesting to watch. Ruby narrows her eyes slightly, watching. How he puts his arms around her, how softly he touches her face. How he checks her over, as though something might have happened to her that escaped his notice.

She’s never seen anything like this before.

The tenderness, the concern. The touch just to connect, to ascertain, to reassure.

Weakness, she thinks, even as she marvels at the gestures.

What would it be like to touch someone like that?

To _be_ touched like that?

Ruby can’t think of a purpose for it.

It’s almost a welcome distraction when the woman, Jemma, starts talking about how she’s going to destroy the world and blah blah, like she doesn’t understand the point of all this.

“Everyone you care about will die,” Fitz says and there’s that audacity again, that he would dare assume there’s anyone who falls under that category.

That he dares to assume her weaknesses.

“That’s not a very long list,” she assures him.

Ruby is about to inform him that the list includes exactly no one when she hears footsteps and Werner walks into the room and she bites her tongue, grateful to have escaped the possibility of him overhearing her comment and turning on her.

She can’t risk that, not now, not when they’re so close.

She needs him committed, even if his commitment is given under false pretenses.

Ruby steps closer to him, dismissing his comment about Ivanov without interest. She couldn’t care less for the…thing that calls itself the Superior. Its loss is…no loss at all.

She remembers seeing Fitz and the woman touch and she presses her hand to Werner’s face, experimentally. Considering.

She feels…nothing. Not the heat of his skin through her gloves. Not a thrill of attraction. Not a hint of reassurance.

Just…nothing.

But Werner looks at her and Ruby can see in that brief moment that he is surprised. But, more than that, he’s pleased.

The way he had been earlier, when she had told him half-truths to get him to stay, when she had promised Werner that she needed him.

And Ruby can think of a purpose for this touch after all. Werner is looking at her like a dog looks at his master.

Ruby knows that look all too well.

She also knows what the dog looks like when it looks at the master who is about to kill him.

She thinks Werner might not appreciate the comparison.

When Ruby looks away from him and toward the woman, she’s not surprised to find Jemma already watching her. There’s something in her eyes that tells Ruby that Jemma might understand better than Werner ever will.

Ruby smiles, slow and serpentine, but the gesture is not returned.

Not that it matters because the Gravitonium is being brought in and Ruby thinks that’ll be far more interesting to play with for the time being than her little IT department.

Inside its prison, the Gravitonium looks harmless and hardly worth all the trouble everyone has gone to over it. She can nearly see her reflection staring back at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. An expression of longing, of desire -sincere this time, not manufactured like it’s been so many times before.

This is just for her. This is something she wants.

For once.

Ruby presses her palm against the container, feeling the thrum of energy beneath her skin. “It’s beautiful.”

Werner looks pleased, as though he made it himself, just for her. “You’re-”

“You’re making a mistake,” Jemma cuts in, before Werner can deliver his cheesy line. Ruby is grateful that she saves him the embarrassment.

Ruby looks at her. “Who are you to tell me anything?” She says wearily, already tired of these people and their mistaken belief that she is something to be saved, someone to be reasoned with.

She already knows her place, her purpose. She pities them that they do not.

Jemma only glares at her. “The person trying to stop you from making a huge mistake,” she says flatly. “The person trying to save your life.”

Ruby releases the chakram again and this time is whistles past Jemma’s face, close enough to cut. The blood stands out in a sudden stark contrast against the white of her skin, a thin line slowly beading with color.

She can tell it takes the woman a second to realize she’s even been cut. Jemma puts her fingers to the cut, looking at her fingers in wonder when they come away red and damp.

“You? Save _my_ life?” Ruby questions with a laugh, shaking her head as she stalks forward to retrieve the blade.

“This is what my life has been leading up to,” Ruby tells them, noting the way that Fitz reaches for Jemma, pulling her closer, like he could possibly save her. “This is what I was made for.”

Literally.

Ruby points the chakram at Fitz, feeling a flare of impatience. “Hurry,” she snarls. “Fix it.”

She’s tired of waiting.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Ruby would have a lot of Lana del Rey on her iPod, just saying.


End file.
